


Reflections

by caer



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: F/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caer/pseuds/caer
Summary: Smut, smut, smut. Don't go looking for plot, you won't find it here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Reflections  
>  **Word Count:** 2 150  
>  **A/N:** Ever had a weekend fling? The kind of chemistry where you don’t leave the room? Or, like, even the bed? But it got the muse going on something I wanted to write for a while, so not _entirely_ an unproductive few days. There will definite be two parts. Possibly a third.

 

+

 

“Kinky,” Sookie remarks when she glances up.

 

She feels Eric step up behind her, followed by a chaste kiss to her temple. “You’ll like it,” he assures her as he walks away, fingers caressing down the side of her face.

 

Sookie looks up again. The mirror hangs low above the bed, each corner suspended by a chain that’s tethered to the ceiling. It’s wide enough to encompass most of Eric’s bed – no easy feat.

 

Why on earth he would think that she has any desire to look at herself all sweaty and flushed, hair a mess, she has no idea. Her scepticism must wear on her face because Eric gives a throaty chuckle, holding out his hand and pulling her into him when she takes it, lips pressing against her knuckles. “I want you to see what I see.” He nudges her hip and she follows the silent command, taking a step back.

 

“And what’s that?” Even as she says it, she continues backward, Eric following step for step.

 

In an instant his pupils dilate, eating away at the blue of his eyes as he gives her a smouldering look.

 

Her legs hit the bed and he reaches a hand to catch her chin with his thumb and finger, face leaning in close. “Fucking gorgeous.”

 

Voice deep. Rough.

 

Her breath hitches, heart pounding in her ears, all the blood rushing to her face.

 

The pad of his thumb trails under her chin, down the curve of her throat. “I seem to have caught myself a little nymph,” he murmurs softly, eyes travelling a path identical to his thumb.

 

She shivers.

 

Grabbing his wandering hand with one her own, she brings it to her mouth to kiss the inside of his wrist, holding it against her face to nuzzle against the flesh of his palm. A kiss there, too; then her dainty little teeth biting into his skin, just a little, enough for him to feel it.

 

Eric watches intently. Swipes a thumb over the arch of her cheekbone and Sookie closes her eyes for a moment at the feel of calloused skin moving against her skin. Then, gentle pressure from his hand, and she’s on the bed now, shuffling back on the mattress and he leans down, knee between her legs, moving with her, over her, hard chest like a wall rubbing against her breasts.

 

She breathes deeply. Slow. Trying to calm the gallop of her heart. He hasn’t done anything but her skin is already heating up, hot blood surging in the tiny channels of her veins, eclipsed only by a thin layer of epidermis – because the look on his face, hunger and lust with no restraint, sends her head spinning and her lungs short of breath.

 

Then he kisses her, hard. Fingers thread in the back of her hair to hold her tight against him, tilting her head and lips slanting over hers; his cool tongue suddenly in her mouth curling around her own, caressing and prodding the insides of her cheeks, her teeth; rubbing along her tongue until her moans fill her ears and fingers twisting in his shirt, and air escaping from her into him.

 

They break apart, and like a balloon that pops, abrupt and sudden in its release of energy, there’s a franticness to their movements now as they pull at shirts and pants, shoes and socks that are toed off, underwear discarded and thrown off the bed.

 

Eric kneels on the mattress, torso straightened, and Sookie bites her bottom lip at the sight.

 

The broad shoulders; the narrow waist; downy golden hair that tapers at the navel; sculpted contours and ridges outlining his chest and drawing up to form his jaw; sharp blue eyes with sun-bleached hair atop his head; lashes a mile long; lips softer than silk; and, _of course_ , the hard piece of flesh jutting out from between his powerful thighs, reaching up towards the flat of his stomach – his desire for her made physical. Beauty marks him from the roots of his hairs to the tip of his cock and all the crevices in between and beyond.

 

Her mouth is drier than dust, full of cotton that leaves no room for words.

 

But then he’s back over her, sucking on her lips again; she reaches for him too, grabbing him firmly in her hand, long slow pulls on his cock, the skin velvet smooth, warming under her touch. His fingers trail over her hip, straight between her thighs to find her wet, teasing her slit with the barest graze of fingernails in the same up-down motion his cock is being pumped.

 

Her chest feels tight, breasts full, heavy; and when he sinks two digits of his hand into her depths she forcefully sucks his tongue into her mouth, silencing the powerful moan bubbling in her throat, and hips instinctively rising off the bed.

 

He drives his fingers with assured slowness, until she abandons her hold and scratches his back, tugs on his hair with her face pressed in his neck. “Eric,” she whines breathlessly. “Please.”

 

Pulling back so she’s forced to look at him, he leans over her on an elbow, locking eyes. “Tell me what you want, lover.”

 

She hates when he does this. When he drives her mindless with his teasing, wanting her to beg.

 

His fingers ease to a crawl when she takes too long and she twists her hands in the sheets out of frustration. “Please,” she pants.

 

“Say it,” he orders.

 

A little thrill shoots up her spine at the hint of command in his voice, making her more wet.

 

That’s when she catches sight of what’s above him – the reflection of his muscled back, her legs spread wide, the movement of his fingers in and out of her, and this time she can’t help the unexpectedly loud moan that escapes.

 

“ _Eric_ ,” she relents, “fuck me.”

 

He rewards her by replacing his fingers with his cock at her entrance. “Sookie,” he says hoarsely, edging in little by little at first, both groaning at the steady intrusion. He rocks back between each thrust, then sinking farther with each push until he’s finally fully sheathed inside her.

 

Her legs cradle his hips, and hands settle on his shoulders for support as he starts to pound into her. The feel of her hard, little nipples scraping up against his flesh from every thrust is enough to make her groan, a sweet sort of agony washing over her.

 

Eric bends his head to bite into her breast and she’s treated to a full view of the mirror hanging above. He drags his teeth over the mound, grabbing and pulling on her nipple roughly, and she sees it as she feels it, the back of his head trailing down, eliciting a soft cry from her throat. He licks, sucks, bites again as he pushes his cock in, and she sees the curve of his ass reflected in the mirror, cheeks clenching when he moves in, then releasing on every drag out, and her hands go straight to his hair, little tufts gathered in her closed fists that pull hard as she watches his ass work, more turned out by the sight than she can admit, moaning helplessly under him.

 

She’s panting now, not enough air reaching her lungs, eyes still glued to his reflection, to his ass; the feel of his stubble rubbing her skin raw; blood pounding between her ears; it all leaves her dizzy, more turned on than she would have thought. “Ah,” Sookie cries again, nipple still being worried between his teeth, the other pinched and teased with his fingers, cock still working in her in full, deep thrusts, his ass bouncing in the mirror more quickly as the rhythm speeds up.

 

The crescendo builds hard and fast, her moans getting louder, and just as she’s about to reach the crest, heart near bursting, Eric pulls back, moves away to the side and she whines at the loss, feeling unbearably empty; but then he’s turning her, pressing against her back as he slides himself under and she lies atop him.

 

This new position puts her front and centre with the mirror, hips held up by his hands and nothing to hide behind, her legs on either side of his, splayed open, fully exposed. It’s too much, too stark. Too naked. She turns her head and presses it against his face, sucking little marks along his jaw.

 

“No,” he admonishes, “look.”

 

She slowly turns her gaze back to the vision above her, trying to take in the sight: his cock curves beautifully up towards her, thick and hard, pink and purple hues lazily disappearing between her lips, filling her deep until she feels so full. “Eric,” she pants, fingers twisting in the sheets. He bites into her shoulder with blunt teeth and she arches off him, mouth open in a silent moan at the feel.

 

“See how fucking perfect we look?”

 

Her breasts sway leisurely as he fucks her, nipples hardened pebbles from his attentions. His balls mimic the same gentle swing, slapping softly in time. Her skin is flushed pink, red in the places graced by his teeth and tongue, a slight sheen of sweat coating her from her exertions, and belly sinking and rising with her chest as her breaths come in slow, heavy gasps. She tightens her hold on the sheets below her, catching Eric’s reflected eyes, sharp and intent on her own, watching her watch them, feeling every twitch and clench of muscle as her body gives way to his cock.

 

She shakes her side to side on his shoulder, urgency rising again, faster and greater the more he teases in and out of her. Wrapping her legs around each of his own, he grabs both her hands in his, bringing them together until she’s cupping a breast with, fingers fanned out, his on hers, massaging, the others sucked wetly into his mouth before trailing down her neck and the dip of her chest, over her navel, lower still until he hovers them over the throbbing bud of flesh that’s been neglected so far.

 

He kisses her ear, eyes still locked onto hers in an unbreaking gaze, moving both hands back to mould around her hips, holding her steady with feet flat against the bed.

 

Sookie knows what he wants.

 

Her touch is hesitant at first, the slightest brush making her clamp down around him, then growing bolder, rubbing harder, faster, as he picks up the pace to match her. She flicks furiously at her nipple, watching him take her, now rhythmically squeezing his cock with every drive in.

 

Eric’s eyes sweep down hard over her body. “Fucking beautiful,” he growls in her ear.

 

And it was. _They_ were.

 

A low, drawn out moan is her answer, words lost long ago. And she’s _so_ close. All she needs – the sound of slapping skin fills her ears as he jackhammers into her, all restraint abandoned, his grunts pulling at something deep within, fingers grinding over her clit, his hands squeezing her ass, spreading both her cheeks. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, watching their duplicates above them, watching his cock surge over and over into her.

 

It’s too hot – her hair damp with sweat. Can feel it trickling into the crevice of her ass, her body humming, trying to tune itself to the right key.

 

Something grazes against her unexpectedly. It happens again, firmer, and a jolt goes straight through her, confusion melding with excitement.

 

A third time and Eric’s eyes are on her, gaze dark as an abyss, steadily reflected in the mirror as she now recognizes the outline of his finger between her ass, the tip dragging up down the puckered hole, sending more sparks of electricity and lust jumping through her body. Any the other time…but she’s beyond caring, just needs to –

 

His hoarse voice in her ear tips her over the edge, careening into a freefall of muscle spasms and quivering limbs, hot blinding light coursing through her, driving the undulation of her hips.

 

Eric’s rocking into her slowly when she comes back to herself, forehead pressed against her neck, and unrecognizable words in his coarse rasp of a voice – she missed his moment, too far gone in her own.

 

Sookie slides half off him, weight sinking into the mattress, feeling wonderfully sore already in all the best places. He’s still gliding softly through her folds. Gentle motions because neither can take much more than that, then leans up on an elbow to place fluttering kisses down her face, neck, on her shoulder, murmuring in a language both familiar and foreign to her.

 

Her heart still hasn’t settled, pounding hard and free in her chest, and her lungs are much the same, mind racing as well. Her limbs feel like jelly.

 

Sookie glances up, breathless. “Maybe we’ll keep it.”

 

+

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *lights up a smoke* Was it good for you, too? (I may have also watched Buffy the last week.) See a typo? Let me know.
> 
> Kudos/comments feed the soul. Feedback especially welcome on this one.


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